Stabilitatem
by CorgisAreMySoul
Summary: Shu Yao was, in fact, a liar by circumstance. He lied about his birth-promise to lead the Yao Clan to the throne, to be its roots. He lied about wanting to stay forever by the side of his younger brother. He lied about not wanting to escape the hell-hole that was Xing. Though, the biggest lie of all, perhaps, was that he simply did not belong there in the first place. OC-Insert, AU
1. Natus in vinculis

**Hey there folks! I've decided to take on this story mainly because I felt like I should, and could, give the FMA fiction section some sort of story that it hasn't had before.**

 **Before the chapter starts, I'd like to address a few important things:**

 **-No, this is not the story I am collecting data for on my account page, that is for a completely different story that has not yet been published.**

 **-This is NOT a copy of marmaroth's Sinheart or reSinheart, for that matter. I intend to finish this story all the way and I do not in any way want to copy the way their story progresses. On a personal note, I don't think I'll find myself referring to that work either way because I rather dislike the way their OC was characterized and didn't appreciate the lack of pragmatism in the main character. I don't intend to 'fix' that here, but I definitely do not want to copy anything from their story.**

 **-I will most likely update this on a 3-4 week basis, releasing similarly sized chapters. If I do not publish at that time, it's safe to assume that I have entered a period of testing at my schooling or another time-consuming activity. There shouldn't be a scenario where this story is ever abandoned.**

 **-There will be no responses to reviews unless requested. Expect a response through PM if you ask for it, but only ask if it is important and/or belongs in the FAQ.**

 **-This will most likely be cross-posted on AO3, even though I know there's not much of a crowd there for OCs.**

 **-Also for those new to my writing, I do not make unnecessary or non-canon ships, so please don't worry about my pairing random folks with other random folks. I don't roll like that... folks.**

 **Quick Disclaimer: I do not own any character from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood or Fullmetal Alchemist, only the OC inserted and the changes in plot applied.**

 **Warnings: (Somewhat) descriptive birth/pregnancy (don't take that in a sexual direction), child neglect, domestic abuse, and domestic violence.**

 **Also, if you find a symbol like this "(#)" in the reading, there is an index at the end of the chapter referring to each number referenced. I did my research for this fiction, so if you're confused about a Chinese custom, please refer to there.**

 **Enjoy!**

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 _"Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn."_

 ** _~Mahatma Gandhi_**

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It was quiet, eerily quiet. The near-silent ticking of a clock hummed continuously as the seconds crept forward, inch by inch.

He felt squeezed, and not in a way that a mother would cling to her young child or the way that soft blankets tucked under one's stomach. No, this sensation was awkward, uneasy. It was all numb, and his legs and arms were bent in unimaginable positions that he could not see with his eyes clamped shut.

Never in his life had the boy felt this way, unable to do a single thing. There wasn't even the natural rise and sinking of the stomach as he breathed; he was not breathing. A brief moment of panic overtook him, as he desperately, yet feebly, attempted to grasp his throat and force air through it. The hapless efforts to breathe only increased his panic, until he had finally accepted that despite the odd sensation of not breathing, he was still somehow alive.

Retracting somehow smaller hands from his throat, he heard the muffled sounds of cooing. A female's voice droned on in the background as if she were muffled by a wall. The coos were serene and foreign to him, as the woman's voice was speaking nonsense to his ears. His hands drifted around as he tried to move again, but the air was stifling and moving was as difficult as swimming in pudding.

Since he could not open eyes, for all he knew, he was swimming in pudding. Struggling a bit more, one of his limbs rubbed against his stomach, and his arm hit another object in close proximity. At first, the shock of the blow against his stomach was almost stunning, paralyzing his entire body for a short while. It did not take long to notice after moving again that there was something attached to his stomach.

He quickly recoiled in horror at the recognition of the rope-like thing attached to where his belly button should be. Before he could try to squirm again, another limb, which he knew was not his, struck his elbow.

More pain shot through his arm, as he desperately attempted to move, or swim, away from the cause of his suffering. He did not understand what was happening, he could not even see what was happening. Only the soft lulling sounds of the woman's voice and the ever-ticking clock could comfort him.

He waited in this hellish keep for months.

He remembered every ticking second until his birth.

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Being born, the boy learned, was not a pleasant affair.

The screaming of both his mother and himself was deafening to his newborn ears, his motor skills were far less than par, and his memories did not dissipate, no matter how unnatural it was to remember one's previous life when entering the next one.

He quickly learned that there was no fighting the natural urges that came with being a newborn, as there was no way to survive other than to depend on his mother. The moment the doctor, perhaps midwife since there was no signature beep of a heart monitor, handed him to his mother, a sense of comfort washed over his disgustingly fragile body.

"Such a beautiful boy," she said between pants, snuggling the child closer to her sweaty, labored body. The boy couldn't understand a word she spoke, it sounded somewhat like Chinese to him, but the moment his mother spoke, he fell quiet and grasped her hand. Once he found the poor woman's fingers, he squeezed them tight and began to suckle upon them, which incited a soft chuckle from her. She let him suckle for a short while, before finally speaking again, "He shall be named 'Shu' (1). He will be the roots that hold the Yao Clan together, but he will grow to great heights."

The newly named Shu was held for a short while longer until his mother suddenly emitted a series of groans and cries. Shu was snatched out of his mother's embrace, instinctively beginning to screech as soon as he was lifted off. Another set of arms attempted to cradle him, but he could not be appeased.

The newborn reincarnate continued to squawk and cry as his mother abruptly went back into labor. The feminine screams came back, this time stronger and more disdainful. The painful howls persisted for what seemed like hours to Shu, his mother's suffering agitating him greatly. He wrestled with his holder but was unable to do anything to help the anguished mother. His eyes stung from the endless tears and he ached with pity, desperately and instinctively wanting to return to his creator.

Only twenty minutes after his own birth did his brother come into existence.

The child was named Ling, and both newborns were held tightly by their mother as if they would suddenly disappear into thin air.

Shu was only thirty minutes old when he was given the first sign that something was not normal about the circumstances of his birth.

He smiled the moment he entered his mother's grasp, even though the reaction was unwanted.

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Growing up, Shu decided, was quite an easy affair. Especially when one has grown up before.

In addition, he had the privilege of being born into a noble family on his side. It didn't take much energy to notice, Shu figured it out the moment he gained his sight. He was constantly surrounded by foreign people, presumably Chinese going along with the language, that took care of his every need on a whim. Servants would hoist him and his brother around everywhere and anywhere. As long as he and Ling were happy, the servants would be too.

At least, that's the way the staff made it seem to the two boys.

Shu grew to love one of his caretakers, in particular, an older man by the name of Fu. Fu was not simply just their caretaker, but also the family bodyguard that followed the two boys everywhere they went. The older man would supply both he and Ling with heaps of tales about various wars and battles. Fu could not be seen without a scabbard tied to his back, which was another odd thing.

It became apparent over time that the way he lived was rather primitive, especially when their family bodyguard carried a sword and not a gun, as an example. Shu tried his best to notice small details about his large family home, and all of the evidence pointed towards a lack of technological advancement. Shu simply assumed that his family either rejected technology, as many (2) Chinese folk did when Europeans attempted to industrialize the large nation, or that he was born at another time. At that point, it did not seem too odd to assume such a thing since he had been reincarnated.

Fu later told him that his family name was Yao. The name struck a chord with the boy, but it didn't seem to ring a bell at the time.

Shu realized that he hadn't met his father when he was of two years. It hadn't been that big of a deal to him at first, he barely even saw his mother during the week, but he eventually found it odd that the man hadn't been in sight once. Ling did not seem irked by it, but it definitely began flipping some switches in Shu's head.

Only a month after Shu realized his father's absence did he receive the chance to meet the man.

Shu was only two years old when he was invited to visit the Emperor's palace.

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The trip to the Emperor's palace was grueling, almost a week went by while Shu, Ling, and surprisingly, his mother endured the journey on a rickety, almost untrustworthy, carriage. The boy, although subconsciously aware that his mother would be going, did not actually expect the woman to accompany them. After all, he and his brother were deprived of motherly attention and care. The reincarnate thought that there were familial or political reasons behind her decision to grow distant, but Ling, as any child would, remained rather confused and upset with the absence.

Unfortunately for the poor woman, her conscious absence ultimately led to Ling clinging to her the moment she reappeared in their lives. Shu was rather detached from the concept of familial bonds, especially when it felt like a betrayal to suddenly adopt another as one's mother, so he kept a rather shy exterior. It was for the sake of his own self-induced dignity and loyalty that he did not speak a word to his mother the whole time, constantly itching at the thought of abandoning everything he'd ever known.

He kept stewing in his own conservatism throughout the five-day ride, opting to continue to sink into his own thoughts than address his less than savory thoughts towards the woman. He found himself unable to see through the curtains of the carriage due to "safety issues" that Fu had been attempting to explain to the two brothers. It seemed that even though the man was not in the carriage with them, he somehow managed to follow them regardless. Whenever a question was asked, his voice would sound, booming into the small vehicle.

Nonetheless, the entire affair was uncomfortably stuffy, hot, and most of all, rickety. The wooden cage they had been riding in for days was damp-smelling, the old cherry-wood used to construct it, although beautiful in color, was clearly beginning to show its years. Every time the vehicle hit the slightest bump, the wood groaned and the family of three grunted synonymously as they rose into the air, consequently smacking back onto their rumps.

Never had Shu's appreciation for modern technology been greater.

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The moment the caravan of nobles arrived at their destination, possibly the Forbidden Palace if he were in China as he suspected, the doors to their carriage were forced open by a scruffy, long-faced man who seemed to have an excess of facial hair. Whatever expression that the man had on before, Shu noticed a bit of a smirk beforehand, was glossed over by a new, generic smile that seemed to scream that his act was a sham.

"Ah, please," the bizarre man gestured, exaggerating a bow and deepening the fake smile. Everything about this man seemed to get more and more suspicious, or sad, by the second, "It is an honor to have one of the (3) wives of the Great Emperor and her children."

Shu, despite being a reincarnate, was still at the tender age of two. Thus, his understanding of what the man said was almost none to zero. Shu silently cursed his limited vocabulary and moved on.

To Shu's utter surprise, his mother strode past the man who had kindly addressed them, taking both he and Ling by the hand and dragging them out of their wooden prison. The moment they stepped out of the vehicle, Shu's field of view widened to reveal a swarm of masked guards hovering about the sides of the vehicle. Shu scanned through the crowd but failed to find Fu in it, no matter how closely he looked.

The scruffy man didn't seem to be offended by his mother's reaction, or lack of reaction in this case, and proceeded to walk to the side of the three nobles, "Ah, I will lead your majesties to the courtyard. I hear from the gardeners that the water lilies are blooming as of late. Perhaps it is a symbol of the Heavens smiling down upon us for welcoming the God Emperor's spawn." (4)

Shu quietly walked, partly listening to the incomprehensible, yet intense, babbling of the man, and partly pondering the reasoning behind his mother's reaction. He couldn't understand why his mother refused to return the bow to the polite guide. Curiosity tickled at his brain, but he couldn't muster up the courage to ask the question stirring in his mind.

What has made you so bitter, Yao?

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The bearded, strange man led them to the courtyard and promptly left after the realization struck him that perhaps Shu's mother did not want him accompanying them. He opted for leaving the courtyard while his dignity was still intact, muttering a nearly deaf "Apologies" on his way out of the awkward situation.

Immediately upon entering the red-gold gates that led to the courtyard, Shu absorbed the nature that boomed within the regal courtyard. The rush of water loomed on in the background while the various assortments of chirps from birds crowned the ambiance. Cobblestone paths bordered well-kept grasses and plants, some of which were in vibrant orange and blue hues. Various animals roamed freely within the gated courtyard, ranging from stray male peacocks that strutted with dignity to a few pandas munching lazily on the native bamboo stalks.

The instant that Ling caught sight of the peacocks, the fellow two-year-old broke from their mother's grasp and began to chase them and attempt to catch them. Of course, the boy failed, but he became so intensely focused on catching the small, feathered beasts that he ran out of Shu's line of sight.

Instead of scream or yell or even complain like a normal mother would do, Shu's mother just followed after his brother, her face etched into an expression of neutrality that could not have been natural. No, Shu began to theorize, it had to have been a product of her efforts. Even under the white makeup (5) that Chinese society pressured all women to wear for beauty, his mother still seemed upset, as though she were furious with the world itself. Or maybe, miserable in it.

Despite his unrest, Shu grasped the woman's fingers with renewed vigor. It seemed as though the further he picked at her, the more he began to pity her ways. In a brief moment of empathy, Shu broke away from her grasp only to pick up one of the water lilies he had picked out from the moment they entered the grand, nature-infused courtyard. With delicacy, he carefully plucked the lily pad that rested underneath the flower and placed it back into the pond that held it. He held the flower the by the stem and ran with caution towards his mother.

His two-year-old legs were weak, and by the time he had arrived at his mother's side, he was already panting from exhaustion. Still, under the rush of adrenaline from the run, he shoved the flower towards her and silently urged her to take it.

The flower itself was not quite unique, as it was licked at the edges with purple and had a whitish yellow center as all of the flowers did, but it was the nature of the gift itself that gave the flower leagues more meaning.

Shu's birthmother, with a straight spine and poised expression, bent down slightly to pluck the flower from his clutches. She mechanically dusted the lily and shook it out in case of any stray bugs or water hiding inside. The woman fastened the natural charm to her hair, without so much as a smile. A trained "thank you" rung out and that was it.

Shu wondered how one could live so.

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As requested by his mother, Shu's smaller brother was caught by the guards and was reluctantly forced to return to the waiting pair. Ling bounded back towards Shu and their mother, clutching her dearly while chuckling between breaths.

The small ball of sunshine continued to exhibit his childlike innocence and playfulness non-stop, which was rather refreshing to Shu but also tiring. Especially when they were destined to meet with the powerful ruler of China.

The three were left to explore the buzzing courtyard for an ample amount of time, this time without Ling escaping from the group. The trip was mostly silent, with the exception of Ling's frequent and frankly, adorable comments. Shu appreciated the commentary, but he himself was not fond of interacting with strangers.

However, their family bonding, if absolute silence could even be called that, was cut short by the same scruffy man from earlier asking for the three to follow him. He claimed it was under the command of his majesty and that there were no options other than to do as the man said.

They walked quietly, even more so than before. All four of them trekked through the regal and ginormous halls in hushed steps. The man suddenly halted himself in front of a painstakingly detailed door with dragons inscribed on both sides of the entrance. He bowed quickly, pushed open the grand doors, and scurried away, deathly afraid of the Emperor's wrath.

As the majestic doors slowly swung open, a man in gold-painted, silken garbs strode through. His eyes were trained on Shu, Ling, and their mother. Oddly enough, the man's expression reminded Shu of a cat: passive-aggressive and seemingly upset all of the time. Hell, he even had the whisker-like mustache to match it.

The regal man's steps ceased as he stopped in front of the three, waiting as if he were expecting something. Shu quickly realized what it was and fell into a deep bow. The man's gaze fell upon him, boring into the back of his skull as he kept his eyes trained on the ground.

"Very good." were the only words uttered from the upright man, "A perfect son respects his father so."

His mother followed in a rigid, almost forced bow. Ling didn't seem to understand why everyone was doing the odd movement, but he proceeded to copy his mother and brother regardless.

"I will have a tea prepared by the servants. Join me." the man said, no, commanded of the three nobles.

Shu felt uncomfortable with the idea that this man was their father. Although he had, at one point, desired to meet his sire, he didn't intend for it to somehow lead to him realizing he was royalty. The revelation was unsettling and personally, he didn't want such a connection if the Emperor himself was such a crabby old man.

He had difficulty holding in a shudder. Especially when the man who made him was a crabby old man.

Nonetheless, he managed to pull on a straight face and followed the Emperor with a bittersweet sense of seriousness. He wasn't quite sure whether or not such a stern mask was necessary, but he put it on just in case the man had something against children being as children normally are.

The imperial Sir walked with dignity into a large room with an open entrance adorned with a large, mahogany table with silk-woven seat cushions on the floor. Ling made a move to sit down on one of the cushions but their mother pulled him back in a flurry of panic while the Emperor just stared at the young boy. For a brief moment, Shu caught onto a silent conversation between his mother and father. The man finally raised his hand in a stopping motion and proceeded to sit down first, at the head of the elegant table.

The Emperor settled down onto the sleek mat, placing his arms on his knees and sitting with an upright spine. It was almost as if the man were trying to seem taller, more intimidating.

He ushered for the three family members to sit with him, Ling and Shu still lost on the exchange between the husband and wife. Shu settled onto the mat quickly, making sure to stay on his father's good side rather than leave bad impressions.

"Which of them is the eldest?" their father asked, getting to the point with as little time as possible.

"That would be this one, Shu, Sir," his mother pointed to him, answering with a scary amount of subservience. She had little to no bite left in her, even though she had put herself above the people who brought them here. It seemed odd to Shu that she would accept such a dominant relationship so easily…

"Ah, the polite one. Very good, appealing to his father as an heir in the first moment," the man frowned deeply for a short moment and opened his mouth, "Why bring the second one if he isn't the heir? Only the elder child is of importance in any clan."

"He is your son, my beloved." Shu's mother replied, quietly sitting with her palms on her thighs. She didn't seem to want to aggravate the man too greatly.

"And yet, I did not ask for the child. I only requested the presence of my wife and her eldest child, not a scrambler for the throne!" despite his mother's attempts, the Emperor started to fume with a silent fury unknown to Ling, but oh so familiar to Shu and his mother.

In a flash of ferocity, a sound slap resounded through the room. Shu's eyes darted up from the ground, immediately noticing the skin beginning to blotch around the hand connected to his mother's frail face. The Emperor slowly drew back the appendage, shaking it free of whatever had dared touch him, and he promptly walked away without so much as a word.

The moment the man shuffled out of the room, Ling, who had been hiding from the scene underneath the table, peeked out to find the same gruesome sight that Shu had seen on their mother's face. The boy dashed to his mother, squeezing her tightly and beginning to sob into her dress.

As she began to break down for the first time, Shu could only stare at the heap of human mess in front of him. She clutched onto Ling greedily, grasping at any chance for human affection as any normal person would do. Shu's preconceived notions about her began to fade away as he continued to stand by and watch the pathetic scene. He took the time to notice the way her hands were frail and lifeless as if they were to disappear from disuse, and how her foot seemed bent in the wrong spot (6), how her white makeup was washing away to show a tired, beseeching face.

Somehow, something clicked within Shu, and he couldn't stand to keep on like this any longer. Slowly walking towards the person he once thought he could never call 'mother', he took one glance at her eyes and saw a whole different world than what she had revealed earlier.

With vigor, he embraced his mother. Those eyes… they were not ones of arrogance or privilege.

No, they were those of a prisoner.

He snuggled deeper into her bosom as she began to return the affection, squeezing him tighter with his brother. They all remained like this for what seemed like an eternity, a bittersweet one.

Shu realized that, through his parent's bold and defining actions, that he was either destined to become the monster his father was or the slave that his mother is, under the control of his sire.

No matter what he did, Shu understood, he was born in inescapable, adamantine chains.

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 **(1). Shu, written as '树' in the Chinese alphabet, directly translates to 'tree'. Although, sometimes it can be interpreted as 'book' in English without the provision of the Chinese character.**

 **(2). The Chinese, during the 19th Century, were encouraged by particularly the British to industrialize and/or buy goods from industrialized countries. The Chinese refused, believing that any and all manufactured goods were 'playthings' that were of no use to the Chinese. It is important to note that the Chinese were extremely xenophobic at this time.**

 **(3). It was common for the Chinese Emperors to have concubines or multiple wives. Of course, there was one "head" concubine that held more power above all, but this particular detail may not apply to Xing. Regardless, the Emperor of Brotherhood is known for having multiple wives and dozens of children with said wives.**

 **(4). During Chinese isolation, the Chinese Emperors would claim that they have the "Mandate of Heaven". This Mandate is essentially the claim that the Heavens have bestowed upon the right to rule to an Emperor as a birthright. This is why Emperors were viewed as Gods among men and were treated with the utmost care.**

 **(5). The reasoning behind 'white makeup' is actually a little odd, maybe even racist? Regardless, the Chinese considered people who have paler skin to be more beautiful. I personally don't understand the logic behind their perception of beauty, but this was the norm during that time for women who could afford to be in wealthy families.**

 **(6). Bent foot, in this situation, refers to a practice that was done in Ancient up to 1800's China called Foot Binding. This was done to shorten the length of women's feet to a small, bone-breaking size. This was usually restricted to the rich women and was done to enhance 'beauty' and a woman's reliance on their husbands, as this binding essentially disabled them for life.**

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed the pilot! I don't believe in the "Don't like, don't read rule", so please leave your criticism in a review, even if you _despised_ this. I accept all criticism, good and bad.**

 **Thank you for reading, and I hope to upload the second chapter soon!**


	2. Fugientes in Opacare

**Sorry for the slightly late chapter, as I had more work than I had anticipated lately. In addition, I'm posting this during my midterms week, and this probably wasn't a good idea to write. This is my stress relief, I guess.**  
 **Right, all reviews are appreciated, and I'll take them into account, but I won't be replying to them for the sake of 1. I'll mostly be saying 'thanks' 2. I might spoil something.**  
 **So thanks for reviewing, those who have.**  
 **Warnings: None really, other than the occasional curse. Minor character development.**  
 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but my Original Character and the changes made to the plot.**  
 **Also, remember that if you see a symbol like (#), then there is a corresponding index number towards the end of the chapter.**

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 _"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men."_

 _ **~John Emerich Edward Dalberg Acton**_

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Shu figured out after that morbid trip that he was selectively selfish, and it was something he hadn't heard about himself in his previous life. He would put his feelings first and foremost, and only afterward realize how petty he was being when something goes wrong. It wasn't too difficult to work out; the way he treated his mother before this trip was already enough of a weight on his mind. He could see how the Yao servants warmed up to him when he returned home, clinging to his mother like there was no tomorrow. The mere shift in familial bonds had been enough for the entirety of the palace to grow softer towards Shu, and he hated it.

It was a constant reminder, ringing persistently in his ears. His thoughts screamed at him that he was wrong, and he dearly wanted his mind to let him triumph over his mistake and move on, but it wasn't having it. He supposed that this was a problem that everyone had, not being able to move on from past mistakes.

It still didn't prevent him from wanting the masochistic thoughts to end.

That trip brought about another crucial thought, one that Shu was solidly sure that he couldn't push off like he did his pessimistic thoughts. The fact that he could eventually rise to the throne was unsettling, and he was entirely sure that he didn't want the position either. The idea of having that much power was already a suffocating amount of pressure, but it was made even worse by the fact that he would receive said power through the man who had the audacity to slap his wife and walk away without a speck of guilt.

Shu couldn't be convinced that his father was a good man. There could never be a human being that is inherently good and still does and says such unspeakable things to what should be "family" to them. The mere notion that the Emperor could hand him a torch with such power was disgusting, but Shu wasn't sure it was an escapable fate. He worried himself with this thought, and he mentally punished himself for being so submissive for his first impression. The regal man liked him, and Shu desperately wanted to change whatever favor the Emperor had to bitter distaste. Shu would rather be invisible than be noticed by such an atrocious figure.

With that bitter realization, yet another thought, more questionable than his others, pervaded his inner mind. Why not run away? Could he not drag his mother and brother to a faraway land, just to escape the injustices of his father? Surely they wouldn't be disappointed, his mother probably elated actually. But then the bitter concoction of reality phased in, and he started to notice how impossible that would be from the get-go. They were surrounded by people who depended on their family, so it would be unfair to the citizens of the Yao Clan to simply get up and leave. Not to mention, the Emperor probably had alternate, more devious ways of keeping his political pawns in his dirty palm. No, Shu calculated, the only way to escape this Hell was to go on alone, and he wasn't sure that he could do that to them either.

He was told from birth that he was meant to be a symbol of hope for the Yao Clan, that he would lead them to the throne and shower all citizens with the glory that they madly hungered for. He couldn't leave with such a burden on his back, as he would be stealing away whatever scraps these people held onto for their future. They believed in him, but he sincerely wanted them to stop.

There was also the thought of his brother, and his feeble mother. He couldn't do that to them either, it would be as cruel as growing to be like his father. Ling was too young to choke down such a loss, and the boy's positive attitude would surely ebb away with such a shock. Shu's mother would most likely shut down, as the woman only dealt with her problems in silence.

Either way, everyone was a loser in this war waged by desire. It just seemed as though Shu has the most catastrophic downfall of those involved.

Shu decided that nobody deserved to be in his predicament, and it was probably best that he just accepted it. So he waited.

He waited for years, hoping that he could quietly fail his clan and live normally. Hoping that some magic circumstances could just whisk his family away. Hoping that this could all just change with a simple finger snap.

Finally, at the age of five, Shu made his decision, and all after the strange events that took place one portentous day.

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The Yao residence was alive with chatter throughout the morning, and the servants, in particular, were buzzing with gossip. Shu, in his normal wanderings around the ridiculously large home, had caught wind of the rumor that filled the house. Apparently, a salesman had marched right up to their home, the biggest and most politically important dwelling in the entire clan, and demanded that he be allowed to sell his goods in our main village. It didn't take long for Shu to find out more information, and it became glaringly obvious that the man wasn't being given a fair chance to barter his goods, specifically because he wasn't from the Yao Clan.

Let alone their country.

It seems as though the merchant had come to China, as Shu still presumed, in order to pedal off his astounding new gizmos and gadgets to the native population. Shu saw the benefits in such a scheme, as the people of their clan were ignorant of Western technologies and would probably jump at the chance to explore their curiosity. The, presumably European, trader, however, wasn't even given a fair chance to display his goods to the public, as he was immediately shut down by Yao merchants, unwilling to share the spotlight, and the local guards on the pretense of 'disturbing the peace'. Shu felt for the man, as he was certain that the merchant hadn't done any legal wrong, but there was nothing that he, the weak five-year-old he was, could do about it.

It was anyone's guess as to what happened to the man. Fu refused to speak a word about it when asked, and the other guards refused to let up as well. It was oddly ironic that everyone was willing to talk about the man himself, but not what had become of him. Shu's mind jumped to the worst, within reason, possible thing that could have happened: an arrest. At the worst possible luck, the man could have been shoved into a cellar for trespassing and given as low a sentence as imaginable. The best situation was that the man lost his edge and walked out of town.

Shu had the odd feeling that neither of those things had actually happened, and his curiosity could not be sated at that moment. After nearly a whole day of hearing about what happened, he actually needed to meet the man for himself.

"Fu?" Shu murmured to empty space, previously wandering through the hallways in deep thought.

"Young master," Fu's voice responded, his response a prompt for Shu's request. Shu disliked the fact that the man felt the need to be formal, but continued on anyway.

"I wish to go outside," Shu said as little as possible. He didn't feel the need nor want to explain his foolish longings. Especially when he knew that Fu would detest the moment he stated his motives.

"Very well."

With that, Fu materialized behind the young man. They began towards the front gates, Shu's shoulder securely held by Fu's calloused hand.

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The first place Shu thought to go after exiting the Yao household was the marketplace, as he was sure that a man stubborn enough to march to his house wouldn't let off that easy. The locals who had noticed him, despite his being discreet, immediately bowed in reply to his presence. It set off chain reactions, only furthering his hatred of his lineage. What a pain.

By the time the pair had made it to the marketplace, Shu had a small following staying a reasonable distance away, most likely terrified by the threatening aura Fu emanated. Despite his solid prediction that the strange vendor would be there, he was betrayed by reality itself.

He was met with a slew of desperate Yao Clan merchants, wanting to get some semblance of approval from the local royalty, but not the figure he was expecting. From the servant's descriptions, the man was supposedly brown haired with wide, brown eyes and a doltish, average-sized beard.

Unsatisfied with the crowd around him and the lack of his target, he moved on with Fu, clutching tightly onto the man as he wove through the ever-growing crowd of mindless followers cheering him on.

The next place he thought to look was the village's main gate, as it was easily the best place to find people going into and out of the Yao Clan's most important settlement. The streets became noticeably dense, and it grew more and more arduous to shift through the bustling masses. Shu wished the crowd could just dissolve, but he had better morals than to force equally curious residents from using their right to be there. As long as he had power over these people, he wouldn't abuse that power for trivial, personal matters.

Lo and behold, on the outer edge of the town gate which was a simple, wooden frame, a man with similar features to the servants' description was sitting. Shu approached the man with no sense of fear nor dignity, he was not one to assume power over a situation the moment he had the opportunity. It didn't take long for Shu to notice the cart behind the obviously European man or the fact that the man had a mule attached to the said cart. The contents within were covered with a simple gray cloth, probably to keep it from tumbling out during the travels it must have endured.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Shu called him to attention, snapping the man out of his reverie. Immediately, Shu had put himself below the man, as he was raised, in another time, to be so. The crowd which had been following seemed to finally dissipate, as though they finally realized that he was here to talk to an outsider. He paid them no heed.

"This is the first time today that I've been addressed as a human being, so I imagine that I have ya to thank for that lad," was the man's opening statement, spoken in surprisingly good Chinese. He looked up at Shu, his weary brow scrutinizing the prince's features, and gave a brief nod in acknowledgment. He stood up slowly, using his arm as a crutch to lift himself, and held out a hand to shake. Much to Fu's confusion, Shu shook the hand with vigor. It felt nice to see such a familiar gesture to him, it brought back memories, but it also confused the hell out of his peers. The man stretched his back until a loud pop was heard and then relaxed, and then he asked, "Now, whaddya want? Gotta be some reason ya went outta yer way to see me."

"If it's alright, I've come to sate my curiosity. I've heard all day about the man who marched up to the Yao family's gate, and I would like to hear another side of the story," Shu eloquently spoke, hands silently fiddling with each other behind his upright back.

"Rather sharp for yer age, aren't cha?" the man stroke his beard absently, completely avoiding the request in favor of pursuing his own line of thought. Slightly irritating, especially when Shu went out of his way to express himself.

"I'm only five, Sir," Shu spoke concisely, trying to push back to the topic at hand.

"Humph, I see that impatience in there. Yer as clear as glass boy," the man remarked, lips formed into a thin, thin line that was void of color. Suddenly, a smile broke out and the man seemingly relented, "I 'spose there's no harm in letting ye know, 'specially if yer so preoccupied with me in the first place."

The man rubbed his hands together in a giddy fashion, his eyes crinkling into slits and his smile revealing a barely noticeable dimple on his left cheek. Such an odd man, Shu mentally noted.

"Right, so I've come 'ere to trade my wares, made of course by yours truly. Yer seeing a true artisan in the flesh, born an' raised to create with my hands," the man's eyes twinkled with a passion unknown to Shu. The stranger seemed to love his craft, and he looked eager to speak about it. The man digressed, "I make all kinds of things, from hats to shoes, clocks to radios. As long as you can think it, I've learned or I'm learnin' how to make it."

The man clearly prided himself with his craft, or crafts in this case. Shu could tell that the man wanted to understand everything, but he was also aware that the man couldn't achieve such a thing regardless. It was nice to think that way.

Shu sensed that the man would have kept droning on about his passion, so he, with as little will as he could muster, signaled the man to move on. The man's hurt expression was enough to make Shu regret his action.

"So I was 'un one of my other business trips when I learned from a slanty-eyed immigrant that they didn't have anything like my wares over here. Soon as I heard that, I realized that there could be some damn good money here, but nothin's panned out so far," the man's expression turned somber and he sat his rump onto the ground once more, startling his mule with the sudden movement. The European sighed and scratched his cheek, "Yer people are stubborn, too much self for their own good. Won't even give me a chance at work since I ain't yer kind (1)."

"If it means anything, Sir, I'm sorry that your business didn't turn out well," Shu said cooly, giving the man a straight-faced response that delivered a silent, but effective, type of sympathy. Shu held a finger to his lip in thought, patting against the tender skin once in a while until a response came to mind, "Though, maybe I can help you, Sir? I'm sure there's something, yes?"

"Clever little weasel, eh? I'm not gonna let ye wheedle yer way into my work, there's no point if the customers aren't biting," the man, in a final bout of moxie began to dig into his cart, Shu watching in confusion as the man finally fished something out from underneath the ashen fabric. He turned back with an infectious smile and shove the item towards him: a hat. "I'll give ye somethin' for yer time though, lad. Take it, no strings attached."

Shu tentatively plucked the cap from the man's hand, patting the inside to view the full volume of the hat. It wasn't quite as large as he had anticipated.

In fact, he was sure that his old grandfather used to wear one of these hats.

"It's a newsboy hat (2), made of homegrown cotton and sewed together by these ol' hands. Ye remind me of one of those little rascals, constantly pestering me about the damn paper," the man spoke through a toothy grin, beaming at his own work.

Shu tucked the hat onto his head, his bangs curling downwards due to the leaden hat's overhanging front while his bun (3) remained untouched towards his neck. His head felt comfortable underneath the stranger's handiwork, as it was of sweat and tears.

"Aye. That's a good 'un," the stranger thought out loud, smirk still plastered on his face. He continued by ruffling the hat around on Shu's head and said, "Now, the least ye could do is keep it on yer head, got it?"

Shu gave a brief nod in confirmation. The man hadn't even asked for payment, but such a request should have been easy to fulfill.

"One question for you." Shu queried, unwilling to let such generosity slip by unnoticed, "Just who are you?" The man went into thought for a small bit and finally responded after a long bout of silence.

"Given the situation, I'd 'spose you could call me _Herr Hut_ ," (4) the man drawled out the foreign tongue, and waited for Shu to acknowledge the name.

" _Herr… Hut?"_ Shu tasted the strange words on his tongue, unsure of their meaning.

"Exactly," the newly named _Herr Hut_ remarked.

"But… what does it mean?" Shu inquired, his interest piqued once more.

"It's Amestrian lad, you'll figure it out if you went there," _Herr Hut_ got up off of his rump and began to ready his mule for travel, sensing that there was nothing left for him here. Shu silently watched along as the man tediously organized and saddled his beast, the man finally hoisting himself up onto the decently sized, walnut colored mule and lifting the reigns. A last-minute flash of consideration blew across _Herr Hut'_ s face, and the man spoke aloud, "If yer ever in Southern Amestris, try to stop in Dublith, eh? I own my own shop there, an' it would be nice to see a familiar face, even it's a little Xingese lad."

With that, _Herr Hut_ took off before Shu could even respond to the man's words, but he was sure that nothing could be said to quiet the tsunami of thoughts that began with the man's mention of both Amestris and Xing.

Shu, with a deep, abyssal breath, finally understood everything that was happening, and had happened. WIthout a single doubt, he had wasted too much time thinking about what to do.

The only thing that he could think of was that he needed to leave soon, he needed to take action and prevent too many things from happening in the next ten years. It felt as though the whole world sat on his shoulders, and he needed to take care of it.

Immediately.

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Fu had dragged him home almost immediately after that, not saying a word about why or what had just transcended, but awfully wary of the present that _Herr Hut_ had given him. Fu attempted to coax Shu into handing it off, on the pretense of security once more, but the boy remained stubborn and elected to hide the item away as soon as he had the chance. He couldn't break the promise he had just made, as a gift of labor was more than enough to demand sentimentality.

The boy, rather than address his concerns, dismissed Fu and made a beeline straight towards where he knew the servants kept his and Ling's clothing. The room was overly decorated, and Shu despised the effort that went into such a pointless, trivial room. Instead of sticking around, he ruffled through drawers upon drawers until he found clothing that was plain enough to be passable for non-royalty. A plain beige garb, good for trekking over sand Shu figured, and loose pants of the brown variety. In addition, he had found a rawhide satchel to stuff said clothing into, as well as other things.

Happy with his selection, Shu moved towards the guard's quarters and tentatively opened the door to said room. As he had thought, the room was empty since the guards were on duty. He quickly dashed in and began to search for some means of protection, whether it be a dagger, slingshot, or a simple folding knife. Less than a minute passed by, and he found a Chi–Xingese hatchet in one of the many weapons containers. Small enough to be concealed, Shu settled on such a tool and then figured that he needed more materials. Digging into another supply bin, he stumbled upon a simple compass, but there was no map to match it.

In a hasty fit, Shu gave up on searching for one, as he was too uneasy to stay in the guards' den for too long without alerting someone as to what he was doing. If he followed the main roads with his compass, he figured, he could probably find his direction.

He slid out from behind the closed door to the room, sharply keeping an eye out for any prying eyes. With a hatchet, compass, and change of clothes in his increasingly heavy satchel, he hustled through the hallways towards the back garden.

Now, as he settled among the shrubs and large bushes, he just had to wait for dusk to fall upon the land. Only then would he be able to get to work. He closed his eyes, arm clutched desperately around his satchel and hat tucked firmly underneath his arm, and tried to convince himself that what he was doing would be for the better of everyone.

He smiled, the plans he had come up with during his frenzy seemingly tangible. If he escaped this early, he could cross the desert earlier than expected and head over to Amestris. If everything he knew about this world, from the books and moving pictures, was true, then he would have at least five years to prevent the Elric Brothers from performing human transmutation, learn the basics of alchemy from someone, anyone, in Amestris, reunite with his family a short while before Promised Day, and then retire to a somber, quiet life.

The best thing for him was that he wouldn't have to take the throne, as Ling was more than happy to fix their father's broken nation in the story. Of course, there would be bumps along the road, but Shu had conviction that his departure would be the best for everyone involved.

Still, there was work to do and he couldn't afford to waste more time than he already had. Trisha Elric was already faded from history, and Shu couldn't sit by until the Elrics to make their fatal blunder or when the homunculi to spring into action.

The sooner the better, he nodded to himself.

The moment that the ever burning sun dipped below the skyline, Shu escaped through the cracked wall of the family's garden.

That night, the palace went into an uproar over his absence.

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 **(1). The Chinese were xenophobic before and during the time that Europeans began to push their products onto them. This basically meant that Europeans were considered inferior to Chinese, in general, and were often looked down upon by most traditionalist Chinese.**  
 **(2). A newsboy cap, which had originated in the 1800's, was a product of industrialization and was a common type of hat at the time. In fact, many still use them today, and they are still considered fashionable by some.**  
 **(3). In China, it was considered disrespectful to cut one's hair. This was because the body was considered a gift from ancestors, quite literally, and thus, it would be disrespectful to one's ancestors to destroy their body by cutting hair short. It is common knowledge that men used to wear their hair in buns, braids, ponytails, and more in order to keep tradition. Fun Fact: The Emperor would pluck a hair from their head as a 'sacrifice' for the heavens. This was a literal sacrifice for the Emperor, as they were performing what was considered physical damage to their bodies.**  
 **(4). I deeply apologize for naming this man "Mr. Hat", but the temptation was too much.**  
 **Welp, hope you all enjoyed. I'll keep these A/Ns to a minimum, but please remember to review. Even if you have something against this story, which you might.**  
 **See ya after my midterms!**


	3. Interlude: Syrtis

**Sorry for the ridiculously long update time, but here's an interlude I had been planning. I hope you enjoy.**

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 _"A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step."_

 _ **~Mao Tse-tung (Zedong)**_

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The lightless silhouettes of the midnight sky clashed terrifically against the solitary, lucent moon. The nightly euphony of the crickets intermingled with one another as Shu continued to trek down the same, everlasting path he had been on for what seemed like an eon.

The acidic taste of guilt, perhaps regret, stung in the back of his throat as he continued to shut out the unsavory, self-deprecating thoughts. Poisonous thoughts lurched at his weary mind, his body on the brink of giving in to the overly saccharine call of slumber. He felt–

He turned his attention to the ground, vying to look at his feet dragging forward at the pace of a snail. The dirt scuffled underneath his feet, the sound of rocks grating against each other every time a loose foot glided over it. He would have to replace them soon at this rate; they would wear down to the soles soon. He huffed and continued regardless, unwilling to stop but still ravenous enough to bear on the dirt road.

An owl's cry rung out through the bramble that clung close to the road, and the flutter of feathery wings soon followed after. It was all a blur, he thought. He was sluggish, and it was exhausting to lurch forward by even a single inch.

Back to the sky, he looked, and he occupied himself with counting the number of dark spots he could make out. It caused his eyes to ache in distress to the sudden exposure to light in the achromatic environment, but he didn't want his mind to wander aimlessly towards sentiments he rather leave untouched. No, he'd rather wait until he was far enough to make the thought of rectifying those mistak–actions an impossibility.

He started to whistle, and he mimicked whatever tune his mind could conjure up. He'd felt absent while his lips continued to pump out melodies he had recognized. Some of them were mundane nursery rhymes, others were jingles to popular songs that couldn't be avoided in the 21st Century he had grown up in, and a few he had to halt before the quarter-way point when he realized how utterly _familiar_ they were. Too much, he thought, too much like the new world he had found himself in.

His lips then grew dry, and he stopped. The silence assumed authority once more, the songs of the crickets rising among the ever-rustling leaves of trees. He could make out the occasional rattle of a falling acorn against branches and the slight chatter of a rodent's feasting.

He hugged his satchel closer to him, clinging on greedily to the solid object in the figureless nox. A cap was tucked tighter onto his head, and fingers wrapped to the point of stopping blood around elbows. It was–

Colder.

He desperately clung to himself and his convictions as he waited for the night to be over, but the sting of guilt and trite progressed it slower.


	4. In Luto Via

**Heya! Back here with another chapter for you guys. It's been a long wait, but I've been working on this for about a week cumulatively. I hope you enjoy 3**

 **I have a tumblr if you want to know when I will update ahead of time / when updates are delayed, so go to the link on my profile to get the link for that.**

 **This story is cross-posted on AO3, but nowhere else.**

・・・・

" _We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths."_

 _ **~Walt Disney**_

・・・・

There was always a pacifying lull to the sunrise, Shu believed. It was a rational end to the maddening night, and it brought shape to what had previously been but a shadow in the moon's ominous glow. It was as though his spirits rose immediately upon witnessing the crimson-yellow sphere climb higher and higher into the sky whilst the clinging darkness of the night was slowly wandered off.

He stood still, his body swaying carelessly in the center of the rough dirt road, and basked in the sliver of sunlight that was hitting his body. He was shivering, and his body was too young to stand the trials he was putting it through. His mind was persistent, but the vessel he had been forced into was pitiful.

Nothing that couldn't be fixed later, he figured.

He kept standing for a while, and he then sat down – he grimaced as the loose dirt on the road clung to his garbs the moment he made contact with the trail – when the sun had finally inched high enough to illuminate the entirety of the humble road. There was a faint heat that spread across his pale, cushiony skin when he let the sun's yolk-colored rays hit him. He let himself pant with a jaded acceptance, and he steadied his breathing until he could see his fingers stop shaking.

Within a few minutes, he was ready to scramble up and start off again, but his legs protested vehemently and he stumbled back onto his rump. Giving a sigh of distaste, Shu hauled his body to the edge of the dirt road, using his hands as anchors to lift himself a few feet at a time.

When he reached the border where unkempt grass met soil, he rubbed the dirt off of his hands on his pants with a wrinkled nose. He positioned himself over the grass and laid down on the cushion of grass blades. His hands drifted towards his satchel, and he grasped the minuscule compass from within the bag. With a scrutinizing eye, he held it high above his head and traced the red needle with his other hand.

He kept it up there for a while, finally stopping when the lack of blood flow to his hand made his fingers tingle with annoyance. He slumped over on his side and stared on at the road, and he began to contemplate. He sluggishly blinked as his eyes continued to look on without a trace of consciousness. When a yawn had broken out, he finally broke his resolve to push forward.

Perhaps he needed to give up, just for a short while. What was a journey without failure?

His eyes fluttered with weak acceptance, and he tucked himself into the ditch that lined the road to obscure himself from sight. He'd rather not have anyone notice him, and it was more comfortable to sleep under the shade of the neighboring bushes.

He gently pulled open the satchel once more to remove the change of clothes he had brought, and he folded it into a makeshift blanket and pillow. Adjusting himself to be comfortable, he felt relaxed for the first time since the night before.

A sigh of resignation slipped through his lips, and let himself drift away with a paltry reluctance.

・・・・

It was around midday when he woke up, and his energy was leagues higher than it had been earlier in the morning. (1) He quietly mourned the loss of his precious time – even that seemed like a commodity to him now that he was on a timetable – and packed up his belongings.

He was quick to leave the small ditch on the road, hasty to make up for the progress he had lost to his need for rest. With a hurried glance at his compass, he set off towards the west and continued to follow the western paths that the road occasionally forked into.

He remained vigilant for others, wary of the consequences that would follow if he were discovered by a rival clan, mercenaries, or his _own_ clan. All of his progress would have been gone, and the mere thought of such a setback made him shudder in a mix of fear and anger.

He resolved to be better next time, to not submit to worldly needs and desires. If he were to save others from a fate worse than death, then he would need to undertake this burden. There was no excuse for failure, he _needed_ to succeed for the benefit of everyone.

His newfound determination stuck to him like glue throughout the rest of the day as he sauntered on the corner of the seemingly endless dirt road. He continued to heave his body forward despite the desperate cries of his stiff, sore muscles.

Eventually, after hours of relentless stumbling, Shu was met with ends: the large road had cut off and he was surrounded by lush greenery. He squinted into the trees and, with a swift peek westward, he stumbled upon a narrow, rough path that stemmed off of the obvious main road.

The sloppy road extended into a bramble of bushes that obscured the end of the path. It seemed fairly natural, much like a pig run he had read about before; the dirt was trodden upon by many feet, as a slew footprints were plastered into the ground. Each individual shoe had left an imprint of its sole in the damp mud, and the path itself looked very much like it was stamped out by hurried steps.

Unfortunately, that raised many alarms for Shu. The darkness that lurked behind the tree-ridden path stirred a subconscious fear of the unknown within him, and his doubts were not sated by the knowledge that the path was made by people. If anything, that tugged at his confidence even more. Animals, although a valid fear throughout the journey, were nothing compared to the _people_ he could encounter on this detour.

He looked around him once more, but there were still no other options: only the forest and the path itself remained. This ultimatum brought about a mixture of pure nausea and anxiety. His undeveloped, childish mind, of course, did not make matters any better.

Not in his wildest imaginations could he know what was behind that winding, hidden path.

Still, the road behind him wasn't a much better option; that would simply reverse all of the work he had done so far. No, he resolved, this was the only choice left to make.

With a mind full of reservations and a quivering resolve, Shu took his first step into the forest and disappeared from sight.

・・・・

He was submerged in a sea of leaves, but the path provided some level of shelter from the onslaught of branches. Despite its shallow appearance, the path went on for quite a while. It was seemingly aimless, but he knew that it was leading him somewhere where people dwelled; he had no doubts about that now, as the branches had been meticulously cut to fit around the path.

Somebody had been here before him, and, clearly, they must have been on this same path on this day. Paranoia bubbled over like boiling water in his head, and his pace increased ever so slightly to reach the end of the shrouded forest faster. His skin crawled as his mind imagined sets upon sets of eyes glaring at him, scrutinizing his every move.

Mud sloshed and squeaked under his heels as he ventured deeper into the path.

He broke into a full run just a few seconds later.

・・・・

Shu stumbled out of the dark path and broke into an open field. Immediately, the stark contrast between the gaping hole of a path behind him and the sea of grass in front gave him some relief.

He noticed a stone frame around the exit of the path and immediately leaned upon it with all of his weight. He sunk to the ground like a stone in water and fumbled for the cantine he had stuffed in his satchel, throwing the bag onto the ground in a fit of irritation.

Like a starving animal, Shu gulped down the life-sustaining liquid with fervor and was immediately filled with satisfaction at the quenching of his thirst. Panting like a dog, he continued to slump against the stone frame with his eyes clasped shut in exhaustion. Small hands groped at the ground in search of the satchel.

His fingers bumped into the leather container and he immediately slung it around his shoulder and slid the cantine back into its proper spot. He sat and breathed heavily, and he stewed in a mixture of self-hatred and bitterness for the lack of a proper, adult body. The limitations, he thought, were not at _all_ worth the gift of youth.

In his ragged, humbled state, he couldn't imagine anything better than the ability to run for more than fifteen minutes straight.

Heaving himself forward, Shu stumbled onto his feet and wiped the dirt off of his hands. His nose wrinkled at the sight of brown stuck into the indents of his fingers, but he shoved the thought away for his mind's sake. With a touch of sanity left in him, Shu slicked the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand and jostled himself past the gate.

Into the face of an older man; one with short, greying hair and a light, airy feel to him to be specific.

Shu jumped back, startled, and the man craned his neck down to speak to the boy, "That, my boy, may have been the fastest someone had come through that path. May I ask why you ran?"

The man's auburn eyes held no hostility, but they contained a wisdom, a sliver of something dangerous, that he had never seen in another person. The elder held his arms wide open as his (2) ascetic light-grey, linen clothing quivered with the wind. He maintained a silence that brimmed with patience and confidence, and Shu felt obligated to answer the man honestly.

"It felt– it was as if I were being watched," Shu started, taking a moment to collect his fatigued self, "My skin was crawling and I could feel–"

"Thousands of eyes watching you; am I correct?" The man interrupted, speaking in a soft, but gruff, tone. The man pointed back to the path with a beckoning hand and spoke once more, "Perhaps if you looked again you would find the Truth? Go back, but open your mind and to the Gate's knowledge. Don't ignore the eyes; follow them."

Shu was ready to dismiss the old man's words in a snap, he knew how insanity could poison one's thoughts and words, but the elder's knowledge struck him deeply. A reference to the Truth and the Gate were not to be laughed at, Shu knew that, so it would be foolish to ignore someone who knew of the entity's existence.

He turned back, slowly, towards the path and was hit with a wave of recognition: the stone frame on which he had leaned on was carved, with seemingly painstaking detail, to resemble the Truth's own gate. A lone opened eye stared down at him from the center of the frame, judging him with its unfathomable sapience. Vines clung to the sides of the stone, and traces of Latin snaked around the arch of the gate. There was no mistaking it; this was most definitely crafted in the likeness of the Truth's Gate.

Shu snapped backward to face the man.

Only to find that there was empty space where he had stood only moments before.

His eyes darted around before noticing rectangular flecks of green and brown drift off from the ground, rising higher and higher with the wind until they disappeared into the horizon. With a deep breath, Shu let himself calm down and think for a moment, even if it cost him his precious time.

So the man was an alchemist if that wasn't already made obvious by his use of transmutation on the ground below him to make a quick getaway, which was rather ingenious, and his obvious reference to the Truth. This, however, did not make him trustworthy at all; alchemists were a mixed bag from Shu's memory. Some were, while not saintly, still morally correct while others were far too gone to be saved. Shou Tucker proved that without a doubt: even with a state license and a _child,_ bless Nina's soul, not all alchemists were to be trusted.

Knowledge of the Truth was even harder to come by, and Shu was certain that he could count the number of people who have met it on his hands. The Elrics haven't even come upon it yet, so the chances of him encountering a man who knew of the god-like entity were almost nil.

Yet here he was, and he was left with another ultimatum to boot; should he go back and take the old man's advice or venture forward into the desert that stood shortly beyond the stretch of open fields? The man didn't seem necessarily aggressive, but there was a sense of wisdom behind his eyes that beckoned for Shu to follow, yet his mind took to the idea like oil to water.

His logical side pressed him to continue forward regardless due to the time loss he had already suffered, but there was a part of him that was gnawing with curiosity at the thought of turning back. His mind flashed to the feeling of eyes burrowing into him, judging him with an omniscience unknown, but he also made the connection between the prickling feeling in the tunnel and the eyes that hid behind the Truth's own Gate. There was something there that he had missed but the old man had seen, and those eyes shared the same look of insight that the old man had.

No, he concluded, he would not continue forward. He had missed something, at least according to the old man, and he would at least go back to investigate.

With a huff, he turned backward again and marched into the boggy path obscured by the forest, this time with eyes peeled open and a sense of curiosity.

・・・・

Shu soon realized that the eyes he had felt on him before, the ones that bored into his very soul, were indeed real. Occasionally, pairs of eyes would flit around him, staring at him through the leaves around the path, and flicker into nothingness when he noticed them. Perhaps they belonged to bodies, obscured by the bramble that hugged the path, but he couldn't tell with the lack of sunlight.

He finally passed through the tunnel, and the path opened up to the same dead end that he had met with less than an hour before. He knew he was missing something, but he wasn't sure what that thing was.

Taking a deep breath, Shu opted to slow down even further and scrutinize the path from top to bottom. He took slow steps as his shoes sloshed into the muddy path and left their mark for the third time. The eyes that stared at him became more and more evident, as though his presence was drawing a crowd. Still, the pairs of orbs flitted about, only hovering near him with a glint of curiosity.

Finally, at the center of the path, equal distance from both the exits and the entrance, he let himself look around wholly. There was a mysterious air to this place that had drawn his curiosity, and his brain picked at the breadcrumbs that were tossed in his path.

The man suggested that he follow the eyes, but he wasn't sure whether the man meant that in a literal sense. Should he abandon the safety of the road? Should he pursue the eyes? Or should he continue to walk the sullen path until he grew weary?

Too many options, he decided, and simply stared around into the bushes. The eyes lingered longer, almost confused by his lack of action. He stood with conviction, sure that he had missed something, but he continued to wait in lieu of a plan.

Suddenly, a choice was made; his hand darted out of the path, searching into the leaves of the bushes. He left it there, waiting for something to happen. Eyes just don't appear out of nowhere, he reasoned, so there must have been a body behind these bushes.

Two maple-brown eyes settled in front of him, sitting above where his hand dove into the sea of green. They darted down at his extended arm and stared back at his eyes, waiting for affirmation. A nod passed. At last, a coarse hand grasped onto his own and pulled him into the green.

The path was suddenly empty.

・・・・

Leaves brushed against him in a flurry as he was dragged further and further into the forest bramble, and the stern hand that had gripped his arm did not falter in its strength; he was held tightly as his body was whisked away from the familiarity of the trodden path.

He wasn't sure what to feel at the moment; should he have been screaming? He didn't think that would accomplish much, but there was a void of emotion around the whole ordeal. There was an unequivocal calmness around the matter that, in it of itself, managed to terrify him more than being pulled into the forest by a complete and total stranger.

His eyes rolled towards the hand that held him, and he quickly realized that it was a figure dressed in the same grey-ish garbs as the old man from before. A cult? No, it didn't seem like that to Shu. The man from before didn't hold any hostility, and it was easy enough to connect the dots and see that his captor was cut from the same cloth.

Yet, here he was, being dragged into the forest, hat clutched in his free hand with a death grip, by a strange man with the same dressings. It wasn't violent as much as it was hasty, as if the man were in a hurry to drag him off. Shu let his feet drag along the forest floor, kicking up leaves and dirt in their wake, as the grey-garbed man took him further.

Shu supposed that this was his fault anyway; he nodded, and the man complied.

He was dragged further along, but it felt like he was being jolted around in different directions now, and he was fairly sure that his captor, kidnapper?, had brought him back to where they started multiple times now.

He huffed and felt the dull ache in his back, which had been steadily increasing in intensity the moment he'd begun this, admittedly, odd excursion. The man seemed to be slowing now, and the trees had become much more sparse now that his world wasn't spinning as fast.

The man finally spoke, wheezing a bit from the run, "(3) M'sorry for the sudden change in scenery, but I couldn't let you just stand in that tunnel forever, you know?"

He let go of Shu's hand, finally, and let the boy clamber up from the ground. A hand was eventually extended, and Shu noticed the man's youthful appearance. He spoke again, "M'Schreiber, but the folks of Gate call me Brother Schreiber (4)."

"Gate? _The_ Gate?" Shu queried, shaking Schreiber's hand with some hesitation. Schreiber, despite his name, was clearly a Xingese man. He wore his hair short and black, but a pointed beard hung downwards from his almond-shaped face in an unkempt manner. He was of average height and slim size, but he still towered over Shu in a way that unnerved the boy.

Schreiber scrutinized him with squinted eyes before it clicked, and the man let out a hearty laugh before clarifying with a smooth voice, "Oh, _heavens no_. No, no, of course, this isn't _The_ Gate. This is the town; more specifically, the town _of_ Gate. M'sorry for that."

The town of Gate? Shu, with all his knowledge of the fictional universe he was living in, was absolutely sure that this was not existent. Fear simmered in his mind as he considered that, perhaps, there was a lot more he wasn't even aware of that existed. Suddenly, a lack of knowledge ate at his confidence and left a gaping pit of uncertainty behind.

Schreiber shook Shu out of his reverie, those same maple-brown eyes gazing upon him with a worrisome glint to them, "Are you okay, kid? M'a bit rough when it comes to handling newcomers, so you'll have to excuse me. Unless I bumped your head or something, then I'll bring you to Brother Arzt (5)."

"No, I'm fine, Brother, " the word rolled off with an odd feeling, and a bit of guilt scuttled around in his brain at the mention of the word, "I–I… Just where am I? What even is this place? Uhm, that man from before, " Shu struggled for a name before realizing that the man hadn't even introduced himself in the first place, " the elder one… the alchemist! Why did _he_ greet me!?"

"M'surprised actually, " Schreiber muttered after a few moments, obscuring the village that stood behind him, "Father Fromm (6) rarely presents himself to those who pass through Gate. Well, kid, I'd ought to bring you to him and let him explain all of this himself. Must've seen something in you to give you a hint; he lets most people wander through without much hassle."

With that said, Schreiber turned the complete opposite direction and walked off, waving his hand over his back to signal Shu forward. Shu, with a deep breath, slammed his cap back onto his head and followed the man into the village for the first time.

・・・・

The town of Gate, for the most part, was surprisingly dense. Houses, huts, and other structures packed into small spaces, some even venturing into the trees and below-ground as well. Lights were strung up just about everywhere, and they bobbled around in the softened wind as the townsfolk and traders moved around, minding their own business.

Brother Schreiber was, admittedly, difficult to keep up within the tsunami of people, but Shu stuck to him with a nervous dedication that couldn't be matched. If he lost Schreiber, he figured, then he'd have absolutely no idea what to do then.

So, despite the many sights that surrounded him, Shu let himself remain glued to the man's figure. People rushed around him without so much as a glance, and he subconsciously reached out to squeeze his hat tight.

He eventually picked up the pace to meet Schreiber side to side, and the two of them walked in silence, not even attempting to speak in the cacophony around them.

The dense, city-like area ended rather quickly after a ten-minute walk, and Shu quickly realized that they had been walking through more of a marketplace than a place of residence. Shu tugged at Schreiber's sleeved arm, head poised up in solid concentration.

"Hey, Brother, how far are we headed? Didn't we just pass through the town?" Shu questioned, confusion evident in his tone. Shu skipped forward a few steps to keep his gait in line with Schreiber's.

"No, we've just gone through the northern trading port; we're going _much_ farther," Brother Schreiber hummed, lightly scratching his beard in scant discomfort. The man's eyes glazed over in thought and he suddenly shifted his head towards Shu, "You think you can climb a tree, kid?"

Shu would have said yes in a heartbeat had he been in his old, more tenured body, but he gave the idea a thought. Just because he didn't have upper body strength didn't mean that he couldn't be creative with how he could climb. He summed up his ability to climb with a simple maybe and returned a hesitant nod in return.

Schreiber scrutinized him with those same uncertain, maple-colored eyes as before, in the path, and, with a noncommittal hum, simply shrugged, "Good enough."

They returned to the snug silence from before.

A small bit later, Brother Schreiber tugged him to a stop in front of a dense, heavyset tree trunk with a height that far surpassed the canopy of the other, much smaller, trees. The trunk had notches carved into it, seemingly made by an ax, which were obviously meant for one to use as a ladder.

"Go up," Schreiber lightly pushed him forward and spoke reassuringly, "I'll be behind you just in case you fall. Go on now."

Shu gulped as he slid his fingers into the groove of the tree, lifting himself off the ground with some hesitation. His foot dug into the bark, and Schreiber sang his praises to encourage him further.

The two ascended slowly, and Shu quaked in his shoes as he went higher and higher off the ground.

・・・・

Shu's hand darted around as he reached for the next groove in the tree, and he quickly realized that his arm was fluttering around over solid ground. He hoisted himself up with as much technique as he could muster, and Schreiber silently followed him onto the plateau of the tree.

The boy panted as he clenched his knees, feeling the sweat-drenched hair plastered against his face in an uncomfortable heat. His eyes slowly shifted up, and he was met with a small pavilion with an even smaller, still figure sitting in the center. With more calming, Shu quickly drew connections and saw that the figure was none other than the elder man that had met him earlier when he had stumbled into the empty field.

The pavilion seemed much smaller now, and the man rose from his seating to approach the pair.

"Disappointed, are we?" the older man said with a lilt to his tone. He hummed deep in thought, "You'll do better."

Shu's lips were pursed, and his mind boggled at the words that the man had spouted.

Brother Schreiber stepped in quickly, waving off the old man's words, "Ever the fortuneteller, are we Father?"

"You'll expect no less, Schreiber." the older man responded softly. The elder man turned his attention towards Shu without hesitation, "You aim high, don't you? Too much stress for that tiny body of yours."

Shu's knees buckled at the man's words, and his skin burned with embarrassment. It was one thing to abhor oneself behind closed curtains, but it was a completely different situation to have his own stewing brought out into the sunlight. Shu's hands grasped tighter around his kneecaps and a scornful frown tugged at Shu's youthful face.

"Hmm," the man called 'Father' hummed with a finger glued to his lip, and he eventually looked down with some amount of pity. He spoke again, but with a more intrigued glint to his eyes, "I knew there was something about you when I saw you, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it." The man raised his index finger and twiddled it around in a joking manner. He snapped his raised fingers, "But I have it now, I have you down to a peg, little boy." (7)

The boy's face blanched and his knees shook without consent once more.

"You're destined for something great, aren't you?" the man's eyes danced with something unknown to Shu, but he continued speaking in an almost nostalgic tone, "Our goals align, it may seem. Say, you'll need alchemy, won't you? Stay and learn for two years, that is all I ask."

"Father… Fromm, is it?" Shu tasted the name on his tongue with a little wavering.

"Indeed."

The three figures stood motionlessly for a few moments, completely paused in their movements. Schreiber's face remained dangerously blank as his eyes darted between the boy and the old man. Father Fromm's eyes twinkled with some unknown knowledge that Shu couldn't even wish to understand, but he knew that there was nothing untrustworthy about his words.

"I'll do it," Shu spoke without doubt, resolute with his decision.

The old man's face glimmered with joy.

"So be it."

・・・・

 **(1). Time Anxiety, or Chronophobia, is a subcategory of anxiety that revolves around the concept of wasting time. Shu, as constantly shown throughout the chapter and more subtly in the previous ones, has an aversion to wasting his or others' time. He prefers to be productive and he suffers in morale from the lack of efficiency that his body gives him. In his particular case, he feels as though there is not enough time (which is accelerated by the fact that he has a strict timeline to follow) and his mental state deteriorates as a result.**

 **(2). Ascetics are "[People]** **Characterized by severe self-discipline and abstention from all forms of indulgence, typically for religious reasons** **" (via Oxford Dictionary). While this reference makes more sense as the whole chapter is read, ascetic clothing refers to the scarcity of the clothing itself. The character here wears rags, almost nothing, to allude to a culture that bases itself on principle rather than material goods. This aspect of the story is mainly inspired by Herman Hesse's** _ **Siddhartha**_ **.**

 **(3). I feel the need to justify this just for your understanding. The "M' " essentially equates to "I'm ", but Brother Schreiber uses it as a shorthand. This is a result of his bilingual nature, so a slight accent is constantly present in his dialogue.**

 **(4). Schreiber translates to "Scribe" in German, or Amestrian in the FMAB lore.**

 **(5). Arzt translates to "Doctor" or "Medic" in German, or Amestrian in FMAB lore.**

 **(6). Fromm translates to "Pious" or "Devout" in German, or Amestrian in FMAB lore.**

 **(7). Father Fromm has some... abilities that are to be expanded upon next chapter. Though, feel free to guess on what it may be.**

・・・・

 **I dearly hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had writer's block towards the end and lost a lot of the traction that I had earlier on in the chapter. Please leave a review to give feedback to me, and feel free to correct anything that may seem off!**

 **Til next month.**


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